Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 380 - 285: Those who come out to make a stand will always be sneak attacked!_4

At this time, Saddam was spirited and wildly arrogant.

He believed he was creating the "Iraqi Empire," with Kuwait as his "19th province," and the entire world trembling beneath his cavalry.

One of his divisions had 250 T-72 tanks, 250 armored vehicles, and 60 artillery pieces, not to mention the few SAM anti-air missiles that many countries were equipped with.

On his own turf, any Americans would be as good as dead!

But the intelligence chief, Barzan, was not as confident; he knew more. The U.S. Military had amassed over 500,000 soldiers in Kuwait and was continuously reinforcing.

A scent of "arrogance" permeated the entire army.

Barzan had tried to advise him, but Saddam, the decision-maker, simply wouldn’t listen.

Puffed up with pride, all dissenting voices sounded distasteful, and some even advised him not to escalate the situation with the Americans or to leave the United Nations.

But that person was executed.

Barzan was one of the few remaining voices of reason, steadfastly believing the Iraqi Army’s lack of air supremacy was fatal!

He glanced at Saddam and prudently closed his mouth.

"Cough cough cough..." Overcome with excitement, perhaps at the thought of imminent worldwide fame, Saddam choked and covered his mouth, coughing vigorously.

Barzan stood up to personally pour a glass of water for him and hand it over, gently patting his back.

"Uday, what has he been up to lately?" Suddenly, Saddam lifted his head and asked abruptly about his eldest son.

After all, he was Saddam’s son, bound by blood and affection; the man was admittedly sentimental, otherwise he wouldn’t lift his entire entourage with him.

But of course, he was still rational, not about to promote a dog to general. That East Asia leader who made his dog an "Air Force General" obviously had issues.

Uday had killed many people, all of whom had been forgiven by Saddam.

But Barzan’s heart skipped a beat; he really didn’t like Uday!

He couldn’t forget the brazen demeanor Uday had when he "picked him up," as if Uday might execute him himself upon release.

Uday was too domineering.

Compared to him, his younger brother Qusay was the perfect monarch material, truly capable of ruling Iraq.

Barzan knew the elder brother was planning to bring out his son at the brink of battle and send him to the front lines.

Not to fight desperately, but to supervise the army, as Saddam himself had come to power through a military coup; naturally, he was untrusting.

However, Barzan was clever; he wouldn’t confront the issue directly—it was an irrational move. He shook his head, "Perhaps he’s reflecting. He’ll grow up."

Saddam, a man of deep suspicion, immediately read the insincerity in Barzan’s words, squinting his eyes and effortlessly slipping into role.

Barzan surely knew something, but for the sake of father-son relations, he couldn’t say much.

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He could only say he would grow up.

Damn it, the boy was almost thirty. Saddam himself was contemplating revolution at that age, while Uday remained preoccupied with women.

"Let him continue to mature, tell him to keep reflecting. The successor’s position does not belong to him now, nor will it in the future!" Saddam was direct and resolute.

Barzan bowed his head, expressionless!

As long as I’m here!

Uday can forget about ascending to power!

But what they failed to notice was the female bodyguard standing behind Saddam, whose eyes flickered and clenched her gun tightly.

She stared at Barzan with an unfriendly look.

You think Uday has been the Crown Prince for so long just to eat for free?

In little Iraq, the power struggle is also very intense.

Power...

It is poison after all, killing fathers and sons today, brothers tomorrow, nothing could be more ordinary.

Only those alive are worthy of wielding power.

Boom boom!

The sky over Baghdad suddenly darkened, turning bleak in the afternoon with thunderous roars deafening ears.

Barzan stood at the entrance of the Hashemite Dynasty’s palace, looking up.

"The weather’s changing!"

...

Victor now felt a chilling cold...

A gust of wind made his scalp tingle.

The plane he was on had crashed!

Not an hour separated life and death; he had almost gone to play cards with Jesus!

This was an assassination attempt targeted at him!

Iraq?

Mexican drug trafficker?

American gangsters?

Even the CIA?

He had offended too many people to pinpoint who was responsible.

Despite his racing heart, he sat back with legs crossed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, smiling, "It seems a lot of people want my life, but they just can’t take it. The advantage is mine!"

"Sir," Jason Bourne felt a bit guilty. This was a dereliction of duty. If Victor had really died in the Pacific, it would’ve been the end...

The promising situation they were looking at would go up in smoke.

"I want to see the black box..."

"I’ve sent people to retrieve it..."

"No need for such trouble, let others retrieve it. When the time comes, we’ll just take it. The data won’t lie. Whether it was an accident or an explosion, apart from us, we need to see if anyone departed the plane. I refuse to believe there really are volunteers for suicide bombing!"

Victor adjusted his sitting position.

"Let my private plane and guard corps come, I can’t trust anyone else."

"About Vienna..."

"Then proceed from the diplomatic angle. It’s their fault, they couldn’t ensure our safety. No wonder Mr. Taorfeas was assassinated so blatantly at the chancellor’s office!"

Like Poland, doomed to be blindsided.

If hot-blooded Austrians heard Victor’s words, they would be indignant, and rightly so, if only momentarily.

Damn it...

Leaving the country has become a risk.

Not at all friendly.

"How many assassination attempts have I faced?"

"The 16th one!"

Victor clicked his tongue in amusement, half-jokingly, "Perhaps, I could surpass Castro to be the most attempted assassination target."

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"I hope I live to see the day."

"By then, I’ll certainly be the most hated man in the world."

...